The Other Side of the Mirror

 Last night’s dream wasn’t just strange — it was terrifying.

Dorian and I were together, wrapped up in each other like nothing else existed. (I know another sex dream. wow, I'm a Fein ik.)  The warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his breath, the way his fingers traced my spine… it all felt so real, so grounding. After weeks of distance and stress, it was like I was finally home.

We were close, about to cross that threshold — the kind of moment that makes your heart race and your breath catch. I was right there, trembling, when I closed my eyes.

And then everything twisted.

When I opened them, I wasn’t under him anymore. I was standing on the other side of a mirror — cold, dark, and empty.

And through the glass, I saw her.

A twisted version of myself. Her skin was pale, almost ghostly, and her eyes were dark voids that sucked in all the light. Her smile was cruel, stretched too wide, like she was mocking me.

Her hands gripped him roughly, nails digging into his shoulders until I could almost see the bruises forming beneath his skin. The way she moved was jagged and unnatural, like she was forcing him into a dance he didn’t want to join.

And then, suddenly, she bit him. Hard. Blood welled from his neck, dripping down in thick, dark drops. But Dorian didn’t pull away. Instead, he shuddered, trembling as if the pain was something he craved.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shatter the glass and pull him back. But I was trapped on this side of the mirror, helpless and screaming inside.

The reflection of me leaned close, whispering words I couldn’t hear — but I felt them like poison seeping into my bones.

Her breath was cold against his skin. The whispered words turned sharp, like knives cutting deeper and deeper.

And then, without warning, she shoved him backward. His body hit the end of the bed with a sickening thud, and she knelt on his chest, pinning him down. Her mouth moved over his neck again — this time with a feral hunger.

I watched, powerless, as his eyes fluttered shut and his hands clenched into fists, struggling against the darkness swallowing him whole.

I woke up shaking, my throat raw from silent screams.

I don’t know what this means. But I’m terrified that this reflection — this other me — isn’t just a dream.